Music Box
by MaxStupidity
Summary: "I'd like a music box, please," the blond says.


Thanks to Dakky for betareading. :)

* * *

"I'd like a music box, please," the blond says.  
The man behind the counter looks at the client with something akin to surprise. He asks, "what kind of music box?"  
Naruto rolls his eyes. "One that plays music, of course."

Sasuke says, "I have one of those here, but it's special." He looks at Naruto as if sizing him up, uncertain that the boy with whiskered cheeks can afford his offer.  
Naruto looks back at him with pure eyes, and says, "how special?"  
"Very," Sasuke says, and then Naruto sees it.

The music box is heavy. Naruto doesn't touch it, but he knows.  
It is black, with red linings. He doesn't realize at first, but the masses of red spirals form a shape: a lock.  
At first glance, the music box is an object of simplicity. It opens by a small wind on the side, it stands by short golden foots - but at first glance, it is deceiving.  
Naruto does not have sharp eyes, not sharper than the average man's, but he sees the reality of the music box despite that. He sees beneath layers of simplicity layers of infinite grace. It calls out to him in affectionate determination. It is special.

"I must have it," Naruto says. He speaks with such finality, that Sasuke wonders whether he has the right to doubt him.  
In a moment of subtlety, Sasuke watches.  
He watches the peculiar blond and the peculiar blond watches him back.

Then the moment is gone, and the blond gasps to find a music box in his hands.  
It is black, with red linings. It stands by short golden foots, and it opens by a small wind.  
Naruto blinks at it, and says, "this one's not mine."  
He looks back at the brunet, and the brunet looks back at him.  
"Absurd," the verdant says, "this is the one you wanted. You've seen it yourself."  
"No," the blond insists, "this one's not mine."

Irritated, the brunet says, "wind it and see. It's perfectly fine."  
Naruto shakes his head. "It's perfectly fine, but it's not the one I want."  
In a matter of seconds, the music box disappears.

A silence passes.  
Naruto says, "where is my music box?"  
Sasuke answers, "find it."

The brunet watches the blond carefully as he goes around the little shop and searches in every corner.  
A few minutes pass, and the client slowly takes the shop apart, until there is nothing left but a mass of space and a verdant without merchandise.

"I'm going around in circles," Naruto says. "My music box is not here."  
Sasuke watches as Naruto's features fill with great dismay, and then frowns.  
"You've given up?"  
For the first time, the blond laughs. "I don't give up."

So the verdant sits on a pile of rubble - remains of what used to be his store, and waits.  
The blond tires in a few hour's time, and sits on a pile of broken wood.  
"I'm hungry," the client whines.  
"I'm not a chef," the verdant answers.

The next few days of passage mirror the first. Every day, the verdant says "you've given up." Every day, the client laughs, "I don't give up."

One day, once Naruto has whined, "I'm hungry," and Sasuke has said, "I'm not a chef," Naruto asks, "what's your name?"  
The brunet looks incredulous at the question - but then he realizes something: the last remaining calendar in their shelter of ruins says that it's been a week since the first search.  
He realizes that he's never spent a week with a client before.  
"My name is Sasuke."  
The blond says, "I'm Naruto."

It takes another week for "I'm hungry," to be met with "you always are," and another week for Sasuke to cook.  
Naruto likes Sasuke's food.  
He still spends half his days in turmoil, walking in circles or crawling on his knees, looking one place then another then the first again. It was just that now, he has a meal to look forward to at the end of the day.

One day, once Naruto had said, "I don't give up," Sasuke asks, "why?"  
Naruto stares at him for a long, long time.  
He practices an answer in his mind about five times, and is about to say something about the clarities of life. Instead, he opens his mouth to speak and blurts out, "I don't feel whole without it."

Naruto doesn't really have to do much after that, or anything at all.  
The music box lands in his hands, and it's black with red linings, and they spiral in the shape of a lock. It opens by a small wind on it's side, and it stands by short golden feet.  
It's vivid in Naruto's hands, against his palms and his fingertips. It's pleasantly heavy, and beneath all the layers of simplicity Naruto feels the weight of infinite layers of grace.

His eyes pry away from it as if by sheer force and catch Sasuke's.  
Naruto gasps. Not because Sasuke's chest is bleeding, not because there's a hole in the centre of it - big and empty and vast enough that Naruto can see straight through it.  
He gasps because Sasuke's eyes have never been that shade of black before.  
Sasuke's voice is different too, though Naruto can't tell why, when Sasuke says - "it's special."  
Naruto understands, then, when the box winds on it's own, and a soft, almost tangible song starts to play.  
He looks down just as the lid lifts, fast enough to catch a glimpse of spirals, the shape of a broken lock.  
Sasuke's heart looks back up at him.

The understanding comes in vague but strong images. First: Naruto understands Sasuke. Then Naruto looks down at his own chest, and the hole there is aged. It is as empty as the one Sasuke bears, and Naruto knows it would not heal.  
Special, he thinks.

"Don't worry," Sasuke says, but it's Sasuke who's fretting at his lips with his teeth, almost betraying fear.  
His voice is even lower when he says, "yours is safe."  
Naruto's eyes go wide and he's about to scream; he can't feel the pain. There's a hole in his chest, and Sasuke is cradling his beating heart in the palm of his hands, and holding it out to him, but he can't feel the pain.

When the shaking stops, Naruto has nothing to confess. He says, "I'm sorry about your shop."  
Sasuke looks at it absentmindedly, as if he hadn't noticed. He says, "it's fine."  
The blond wants to say, _it plays a wonderful song, your heart. _He wants to say, _I've never heard anything like it, _but he falters.  
The brunet speaks instead. "Take care of it." He says. "Okay?"  
The client nods.  
The verdant smiles.


End file.
